Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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12 THE CHIMES Winslowe, her brown locks as tousled and charming as ever, her dark eyes as full of impish glee and tender love as only Julia Winslowe's eyes could be. An instant she stood poised, as a butterfly on some trembling rose leaf, and then an ever so slightly turned up nose with nine tiny freckles, impudent laughing brown eyes, and a face that altogether looked like an impish sprite of Maxfield Parrish, was pressed close to Kent Stewart's rainsoaked coat. And Miss Julia Faxton smiled on the two nieces who had been named for her. H. L. Wilson, '26. HARVEST TIME The weather is cold but bright. The days are shorter, too. The nights are chilly but clear. Each dawn brings frozen dew. The barren fields are frozen and hard. The frost comes every night. The squirrel is busy packino- nuts In his home all snug and tight. The turkey tries to hide away He knows his doom is near. The children hustle to find their skates And run to the pond with a cheer. This is the harvest time of the year, And the birds to the south have flown. The harvester goes forth to reap, And gather what he has sown. No man can expect to receive Any more than he has given. The man that gives the best he has Is the man that is nearest Heaven. Wallace Torre y, '26. THE TOWER Majestically it rises above the land; A tall gray spectre of better days. The b 'rds nest in its shiel Mng eaves And shriek encouragement As it struggles to reach the sky. Year in, year out, it has battled The howling winds and pelting rains. Year in, year out, the tentacles of tiny vines Wind about the weather'd shingles; Yet despite all Nature's protests. It still remains, through passing time. Showing its former splendor But undefeated! Jean Lawson, '26.

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THE CHIMES 11 was too much to ask, he told himself. Still Julia Faxton was a nice girl. But — didn't he owe it to his aunt to grant the first thing she had ever asked? Yet, candidly, Kent Stewart could not give up his money without a great effort. He loved the idle, happy days, filled with golf, tennis, mo- toring, dinners, and parties. He was a coddled child of Dame Fortune, and could not readily relinquish his carefree life. During dinner he spoke little, going directly to his room when he had finished. He walked absently to his desk and picked up a snapshot taken on the memorable day when he had picnicked in the country with Julia. Now her eyes looked pleadingly at him, as before they had seemed to cheer him in his times of sorrow, spur him on to victory when defeat was imminent, and laugh with him when he was gay. Perhaps half an hour afterwards, he caught up his hat and went out into the street. The sun was hidden behind a mass of black clouds and soon big drops began to fall. It was late when he returned, and the flickering arc lights played upon the inky pools in the wet street. It was still raining and the wind howled dismally round the dark masses of buildings. But Kent Stewart's heart was light, for his decision was made and he had obtained the first job he had ever held. To be sure it wasn't much, but he and Julia could get along- — As he turned in at his own residence, he could see lights in the library and a bright fire crackling on the hearth of the great stone fireplace. He could see his Aunt Julie's plump form, and nearby a fair head bent over — yes, a tiny ball of white fluff. And outside the circle of light bent a violet shadow which escaped his casual glance. As he entered the hall his aunt's high voice called. Is that you, Kent? He came to the library door and saw Aunt Julie and her niece, Julia Faxton. It's no use, he said in a tired tone, I can't do it. I've got a job and I'm going to — Julia has some news for us, broke in his aunt. Julia, her poodle cuddled in one arm, stretched out a plump, white hand. On the fourth finger gleamed a huge solitaire. She nodded in answer to his bewildered glance. I've got myself engaged, she said in the childish tone she always fell into when highly excited. To Mr. Edward Channing Cox- well. The young man with the spectacles, said Aunt Julie aloud, but inwardly her heart was singing over and over, Bravo, Kent Stewart, bravo ! I knew you would do it. B — but, stammered Kent, I don't understand. You said — Meet my niece, said Miss Julia Faxton in a complacent tone. I believe you're not acquainted with her. At a faint rustle of silk, h e turned, bewildered, to see Julia

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THE CHIMES 13 THE LIFE OF THE NORTH The ground was covered with glistening, crusty snow. Off in the distance the snow-capped mountains reflected the pinks of the setting sun. The trail was worn down to a rutty mass of white, with a coating of ice which cut the feet of the hard- working sled dogs, and left little red stains which made a pretty contrast with the white snow. Up the lonely trail came a sled drawn by eight husky sled- dogs. On the sled, partly buried with fur robes, sat a young girl. Her face was aglow with a healthy red, and her hair curled around her face in yellow ringlets. A fur cap was pulled down to meet a fur collar, and she was urging the dogs onward to a greater speed. Through the gathering dusk came the cry of wolves, ever nearing; and Justine's eyes glistened with the cold and with the fear of the e creatures. On and on went the team; down the frozen river, and up the bank — in silence except for the grating ice under t he runners and an occasional whine from a dog. Mitzi, the leader of the team, was growing restless. Every in t nt she set up a howl to the moon that echoed through the stillness of the v oods. F om the distance came an answering cry from the pack of wolves. Justine shivered. Then in the distance appeared a black spot. It was rapidly approaching; and as it came nearer, Justine recognized it as a dog team. She was instantly alert. Wild thoughts were surging through her mind. Friend or foe? But it turned out to be Jose from the trading post. Justine sat back with a feelinsr of security as he came up and turned his team about. As they jogged along toward home, he explained that the family had become worried, and he had set out to find her. and bring her safely home. Then they realized that the pack had scented their trail and v ere ''dogging them. In Jose's quiet manner there was no Fign of fear, but he was inwardly planning how to protect themselves. Finally he said, ''We had better stop and build a fire. We can't go much farther without being attacked. So they rolled out of the blankets and started a fire with the box in which Justine was carrying provisions on her sled ; they al o secured some large dry limbs and made a pile to burn, little by little. Then the frightened dogs were un- hitched and the sleds turned sideways with the fires at each end to fo m a barricade. By this time the pack was sneak- ing near them, not quite knowing what to do, as fire was their greatest enemy. Justine and Jose threw the hungry pack a huge quarter of lamb, one of the articles of provision. This kept the pack quiet for several minutes, eating and growling. The lighted